@Draconian
She's gone over two hundred years without clashing with dragon hunters, and now twice in the same spring. That just seemed...ridiculous.
Nevertheless, she found herself bound leg and wing and locked behind magically-reinforced iron bars in this-- this
camp of theirs. Iridescent purple blood stained her fur and feathers, new wounds layering over the old scars. She had no doubt these would offer scars of their own.
Of course she'd fought, but combat had never been the tropical dragon's strongest skill. And there were simply too many of them, foreigners on Yoreiqi soil who'd come to trade with the locals. Apparently, they'd thought a colorful, feathered dragon would be a lovely addition to their little
collection.
Once she'd be captured and restrained, a mage had worked some sort of sleep spell on her. She didn't remember much from the journey to the mainland-- she woke up once or twice, crammed into the cargo hold of a large trading vessel-- but she was quickly put to sleep again. The next thing she knew, she was waking up in her current predicament: bound and caged, her wounds healed just enough that they were no longer life-threatening, though they hadn't been cleaned properly.
And from her cage, she could see others, at least a dozen iron and magic enclosures scattered about the small, rocky pit settled in these desolate mountains.
"He...elp..." It was the first time she'd spoken in days, possible weeks. Her voice was raw and hoarse, and she coughed roughly. Gasping through a painfully raw throat, she tried again. "Someone...anyone...please, help!"
